


Only Friends Left Alive

by vampire_angel_z



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:02:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampire_angel_z/pseuds/vampire_angel_z
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a lifetime of dissatisfaction due to society's treatment of omegas, John finally finds refuge by alpha Sherlock Holmes' side. Detailed summary inside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Sherlock for the billionth time. I started writing fic. I am sorry and I suck.
> 
> Detailed summary: After a lifetime of omega hell, John finds himself in heaven when seemingly asexual alpha Sherlock takes him in, expecting nothing but a secondary brain in return. Things get frustrating when John finds himself craving Sherlock's attention as more than just a friend.
> 
> Everything is biology this, mating that. Sherlock only wants to solve cases, damn it. Finally, an omega who understands, and wants nothing to do with Sherlock's knot. Things get frustrating when Sherlock wants to present said knot to John. 
> 
> Always pay attention to tags and warnings at the beginning of every chapter. Your mental health is important.
> 
> I don't allow any translations of my work. And if I want to post it anywhere else I will.

"You are the most annoying, irritating, aggravating person I have ever met."

"Synonyms." Sherlock chastises, "You could have just stopped at annoying. Last two words were redundant."

"Do you have a girlfriend?" The male, a muscular redhead, glares up at Sherlock.

"Excuse me?" Sherlock makes a face. This man has done nothing but mock him for the entire six weeks Sherlock has spent solving his father's case.

"Did you go deaf all of a sudden?" The heir rolls his eyes at Sherlock's genuinely surprised look. "A boyfriend? Fiancé? Mate? Any love interest?"

"No," Sherlock can't help but look and feel insulted.

"Of course." The man (even Sherlock's eidetic memory can't remember his name. It's designed to discard useless information). "I bet you don't even know where your knot is."

"I know where it is," Sherlock says, defensive. "I just don't have any use for it."

"Well," The ginger (Steven? Samuel? Stewart?) smirks up at Sherlock, "I have a lot of uses for it."

"Sterling," The father's voice booms, "That's enough."

"I am going to leave now,” Sherlock gives the omega’s father a painful smile, and saunters out before the omega can do something ghastly, like present.

“Thank you.” The father says, as if Sherlock has spared him the death penalty.

“Father,” Sherlock can hear the omega’s yelps well after he’s exited the building, curse his superior hearing sometimes. “I was flirting.”

“He is insufferable.” Sterling’s father moans, “If you mate him, I will throw myself out the tenth level window.”

“His looks trump his personality.”

“Ugh,” Sherlock makes a pained sound, “My personality trumps my looks, you tart. It’s the best part.” He yells back. Neither the omega, or his beta father hear him from this distance. The people he passes on the street start walking a lot faster to get away from him.

“He dressed so well.” The omega wails, in a high pitched sound which is offensive even from far away. Sherlock flinches.

“I hate him.” The father wails back in an even higher pitched tone, and Sherlock didn’t know betas could do that. “I don’t care if he saved me millions, I hate the life out of him.”

Mercifully, Sherlock manages to get far enough to miss Sterling’s reply.

Sherlock's life is a constant struggle. Being an attractive alpha with a dress sense to die for isn't all sunshine and roses. There's always a submissive out to ride his knot and Sherlock is fed up of the constant mating frenzy the entire world seems to be in.

His annoying, insulting, condescending personality only protects him to a certain extent. There are plenty of omegas stupid enough to fall for Sherlock, despite his horrifically irritating characteristics.

Speaking of omegas stupid enough to fall for Sherlock...

"Hi," Molly appears out of nowhere, and how does she do that, and manages to startle Sherlock despite his hyper-aware alpha sense. Curse his inner Neanderthal, which has started seeing Molly as a _friend, mustn't hurt,_ and stopped scoping for her presence. If a friend of Sherlock ever decides to murder him, his alpha simply wouldn't let know, and that's the most annoying part of being a dominant.

"Bye," Sherlock smiles down at her, and honest to god starts to run away. He's got no patience for heart eyes today.

“I have a fresh body,” Molly knows just what to say to her prospective beau. She knows just how to get his attention.

Sherlock makes a confused, wary face. What if Molly is lying and it’s a trap? Omegas have been known to trick poor Sherlock into following them with promises of fresh murders and bodies when it’s just awful romantic dinners and sex.

“No,” Molly assures and Sherlock believes her. She _does_ work at the morgue.

“Fine but it better be ghastly,” Sherlock follows his _friend_ and that’s just gross. Sherlock doesn’t need friends. He’s a lone wolf.

“Look,” Molly looks like an excited puppy and Sherlock’s alpha is kind of disgusted. He doesn’t want such a display of obvious weakness from his omega and what the hell Sherlock doesn’t even want an omega what is going on? “Body,” Molly could die of excitement; Sherlock is paying attention to her!

“Riding crop please,” Sherlock requests politely. It’s time to get intimate with the body.

Molly giggles. It’s about to get hot in here. Sexy alpha/dead body action.

This is what Sherlock lives for, investigating. Experimenting. The rest of his life is so dull and here he is, actually having fun! Molly can’t help but giggle at how intense Sherlock’s expression is and then stops herself. How awful! She must remain professional.

“Tell me how the blood pools,” Sherlock orders. “What’s going on with your mouth?” He frowns. Oh lord, it’s another attraction tactic. Sherlock can’t take this. No, please lord up in heaven if there is one (not that Sherlock believes in god or does he? He hasn’t decided yet. He is a growing boy. Alpha brains take time to develop. Mummy said so).

“I am trying something.” Molly remains cryptic. She put on lipstick in hopes Sherlock will pay attention and he’s noticed and that’s clearly a step in the proper direction. _Well done Molly._ She pats herself on the back.

 _Ugh,_ Sherlock groans inwardly. He could just die. So he is attractive. So he is tall and dresses like an orgasm. So what? That is no excuse. Omegas need to get a grip and leave the poor alpha alone.

“Care for some coffee?” Molly asks, and Sherlock instructs her to bring him some, and then runs out the room when she leaves to obey his demands. This is getting out of hand. He isn’t safe anywhere! How horrible! Why couldn’t Mycroft be the pretty one! Instead he gets to have the weight problems, oh what Sherlock would give to have Mycroft’s weight problems.


	2. Chapter 2

John has no issue with his gender. He takes supplements, avoids the heats as much as he can, masks his scent. He could do without the blatant sexism he has to constantly deal with. That and the PTSD. Definitely the PTSD he could do without.

The stupid therapist has been telling him to blog and find an alpha because that will calm his inner sub and screw her.

He is older now, and kind of a master at avoiding dominant attention but damn some of those alpha bastards are good at picking out his scent, seeing through the masking measures and fuck life can suck balls sometimes because John is going to be homeless soon if he doesn’t find a place to live and…

“John Watson?”

“Oh,” John squints at the pudgy looking fellow trying to get his attention. “Hey.”

“Mike Stamford.”

“Okay,” John shrugs and pretends to recognize the fellow.

“I heard you were somewhere getting shot at!”

“I got shot, Mike!” John says hatefully. His leg is a bloody mess!

“Oh,” Mike offers to get a beverage and they proceed to spend the next few minutes in awkward silence.

“Well,” Mike shows interest in John’s sad life, “Where are you doing now?”

“I can’t afford any kind of decent living arrangement on an army pension, Mike,” John spits out. He really hates everything.  Either that, or John’s going into an unexpected heat, and if that’s the case he’s going to hang himself honestly he’s not going through _that_ again.

“Have you considered living outside London?”

“I like London, Mike,” John spits out, and jeez, he’s so damn bitchy, there is definitely the possibility of an unexpected heat coming. He better up his dosage of suppressants for tonight.

“Well I might have a suggestion for you,” Mike says, slowly and kindly. He definitely knows how to talk to an angry omega.

“If it’s shacking up with some alpha I beat you to death with my cane.”

“No,” Mike laughs and it’s hearty. “Well, yes.”

John actually thinks about raising his cane but thinks against it. It’s not nice to beat up betas.

“He’s special.” Mike promises.

“Oh,” John makes a hateful sound, “I’m sure he is. He will treat me nice and will be such a good husband and we will have two point five children and our marriage will be amazing and I need to get my hooks in him because the clock is ticking damn it.”

“I swear, John. You will have no problem with him. Please just meet him.”

“Go away Mike.”

“You will meet him,” Mike glares at John and wow, it’s truly surprising to be glared at by someone so round. “You will give him a chance.”

John has spent a lifetime staring down alphas (despite being so short) so it’s a perfect personal failure to be intimidated by some rude little beta and to find himself following said beta to his old medical school? Ghastly.

“There,” Mike shows John the alpha leaning over the microscope and he’s unmated and the word _idiot_ instantly comes to John’s mind for some reason.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” The bastard asks, and Mike starts smirking and what the hell?

Five minutes in and the dominant dissects John like a cadaver and no alpha has senses like this. This is beyond advance smell or sight or anything John has ever seen even the sharpest of soldiers do. This is fucking mental.

He’s still a goddamn idiot. Whatever genius he’s got going for him doesn’t change John’s initial opinion.

“So?” Mike asks, when _idiot_ has left in a cloud of _idiocy._

“He didn’t hit on me.” Is all John can bring himself to say.

“Oh no,” Mike huffs out a laugh. “Sherlock doesn’t work that way.”

“I mean,” John makes a face, “No sniffing, no flirting, no…”

“There will never be any of that,” Mike assures, “Sherlock is dead inside out. We are not even sure there is a knot.”

“Oh my,” John can’t help but make a mournful sound. Such a beautiful alpha and no knot? How dreadful. Not that John cares but still. Sad business that.

“Very sad,” Mike sighs, “I mean he’s crazy but we could breed him. High quality stock that.”

John shrugs. Pretty doesn’t always make for good children but whatever. John isn’t in the market for a potential baby father. He’s looking to die alone.

“Look,” Mike sighs, as if John is the difficult one and not whatever the hell that _creature_ was that just left, “He’s alone, and you’re alone and it’s better if you two are alone together.”

“And he’s not interested in…” John flicks his wrist, and makes a disgusted face. He could just die if he had to deal with a relationship right now.

“If he makes a pass at you,” Mike sighs, “You owe me a cheque for like a million pounds, and so many other people.”

“Okay fine.” John grumbles. He’s so sick of everything.

\----------

“This looks expensive and I can’t afford it.” John makes it very clear when he sees the place the alpha has in mind for the two of them.

“Mrs. Hudson is giving me a deal.” Idiot tells John and he has the nerve to judge John for his limp and his cane and his difficulty getting up stairs well the bastard can just keep his mouth shut about it.

John’s nesting instincts immediately try to take over as soon as he sees the squalor idiot is living in, but he resists the urge to clean up after the alpha. If alpha wants to live in filth, he can very well do so.

“This is my skull.” Idiot introduces his only friend (last victim?) to John, “I talk to him.”

“Okay,” John is creeped out, but idiot has yet to make a pass at him and that alone has deeply endeared him to John.

“What do you think then, Dr. Watson?” The landlady says with a tinge of desperation in her voice. She mentions another bedroom and then laughs at herself. “Why would you two need another bedroom?” She seems extremely relieved to see idiot with an omega.

John doesn’t bother mentioning that he is going to die alone. When it happens landlady will see. He just sits down and it feels so good. The happy sigh of relief which escapes him is completely involuntary.

“I looked you up on the internet.” John tells idiot, just to remind him that he’s got his eye on all serial killer activities.

“What did you think?” Idiot gets all hopeful and puppy doggish.

John doesn’t bother mentioning how similar the ramblings were to a schizophrenic’s journal he read once. He just makes a face. Idiot also makes a face.

A police car comes to get idiot and John makes a disappointed sound. He just found himself a semi-decent (?) living arrangement and now idiot is going to get arrested? What?

It’s just another alpha who needs idiot’s help and he hasn’t even noticed John and has John died and gone to some kind of heaven because he hasn’t been hit on in hours and he’s kind of really happy.

“Murder,” Idiot dances around all happy and giggly, “Murders!” He then composes himself. “I will be late, Mrs. Hudson. Might need some food.”

“I’m not your housekeeper,” Is the landlady’s response, “And you have John now.” She gestures to the omega who is far too happy by his new asexual roommate to make a sound at the misconception. “He can take care of your food needs.”

“Make yourself at home, John.” Idiot calls out and then comes rushing back, a blush on those ridiculous cheekbones.

“My husband was the same way,” Mrs. Hudson could die, so happy is she.

“You can come too,” Idiot says, and then frowns, “If you are a good doctor.”

“I am a good doctor.” John snarks up at idiot, and then frowns the blush intensifies. What is happening?

There is pathetic mumbling then and John finds himself following the idiot and Mrs. Hudson is sobbing with relief. 


	3. Chapter 3

They are in a taxi together, and John briefly wonders if idiot knows how to drive and dismisses the thought.

“You have questions.” Sherlock states, “Ask.”

 _Your cheekbones, how do they work?_ “Where are we going?” John asks idiot.

“Crime scene,” Idiot says, as if John should know this.

“Who are you? What do you do?” Is John’s next inquiry.

“What do you think?”

 _Professional cheekbone model, expensive coat model, scarf model, hair model… anything but a model for mental stability._ “Private detective but then why police?”

“They come to me because I’m special.” There is the blush again and John might just punch him.

“Why would they go to an amateur?” John has a delightful habit to attack an alpha’s pride and this one seems to have a hard on for his own intelligence.

Idiot doesn’t disappoint. Within moments, John receives a verbal essay on his second-hand phone, Harry, Harry’s alcoholism. All of which accurate. “Amazing,” John can’t help but say. And the genuine surprise on alpha’s face can’t be faked. It’s real which is silly. Hasn’t idiot been told this already?

Idiot is amazing.

“My brother is actually a sister.” John tries not to enjoy the agony on idiot’s face too much.

\----------

Idiot likes to embarrass people, and people, don’t respond too kindly to being humiliated. People hate idiot.

“Freak.” The beta Sherlock accuses of being on her knees for better part of her evening spits hatefully and John marvels at the utter lack of feeling at the insult which is beyond even a standard alpha’s emotional control. Idiot truly couldn’t care less.

“Stay away from him.” Beta female warns John after idiot has abandoned his omega roommate at the crime scene (like a true fucking gentlemen). “He’s a disgusting freak and one of these days he’s going to be the one committing these murders. He’s a serial killer in the making. No sub has any business being near him. He gets off on all this.”

“Hmm,” John says thoughtfully. “Maybe I can be the first victim then.” He says, just to rile beta up, and at her shocked expression laughs it off, “Joking.” He’s planning on dying by idiot’s side. “Where can I get a taxi?”

\----------

Of course John gets kidnapped for associating with idiot. Still not a deal breaker. Probably. He hits on the side chick because she has a vagina and John has solid principles.

“You miss the battle field. You crave danger.” The alpha behind abduction tells John and he hasn’t hit on John and this is some kind of alternate dimension where nobody sexually harasses this omega and maybe John has died and gone to heaven?

“I will give you good money to spy on Sherlock.”

John shrugs and hands his bank card over.

\----------

“Please tell me you took the money,” Idiot says desperately, “Please.”

John nods reassuringly. “I did.”

“Oh thank god.” Sherlock sighs in relief.

John has this itch, this _need_ to take care of idiot and feed him and make sure he’s okay but he completely ignores his instincts. Not his alpha not his problem.

“Phone please.” Sherlock asks politely, and John almost dislocates his shoulder to keep from patting those curls at the politeness because idiot said please and John is so proud and _no John not your alpha not your problem._

“My phone,” John says sternly and then proceeds to text a killer because it’s just what he does now. This is just how he lives his life.

“I will tell you what to tell Mycroft,” Sherlock says firmly.

“What the hell kind of name is Mycroft?”

“I know,” Idiot makes an agreeing sound. “God. He is such a disgrace. Tell him that.” He orders. “Tell Mycroft he’s a disgrace when you see him next.”

“What?” John asks because idiot seems to be having some kind of mental break.

“We should go,” Sherlock immediately stands up and starts layering up. “Or do you want to sit here and want to watch telly?”

“Wonderful,” John sighs and leans back against the back of his seat, “I doubt anything decent is on right now but I will manage.”

Sherlock narrows his eyes down at the omega, _not_ his omega, not one he can order around. “We need to leave.” He says.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” John raises a defiant eyebrow. “No one tells me what to do. I am a free animal.”

“That you are.” Sherlock says; a hint of appreciation in his tone.

John notices after half an hour of his usual stories that alpha is still around, statuesque, watching him watch TV. “Can I help you?”

“We need to leave.” Sherlock is clearly willing to wait.

“You sicken me.” John makes a face and stands up, daring Sherlock to help him. The bastard can try and get the caning of his life. “Sergeant Donavon said I will end up being your first victim.”

“Why would I start with you?” Sherlock sighs, “Mycroft has it coming.”

“With that name he deserves it.”

\----------

“Listen,” Sherlock is trying to be a decent human being here, for once in his life. “I am married to my work.”

“You can be married to Jesus for all I care.” John scoffs, wondering where Angelo got these bloody candles from and hates himself a little bit. _Bad omega._ He scolds himself. Bad submissive instincts, always wanting nice, pretty things. He is a badass soldier, and he fights and he can perform surgery for fuck’s sake and this candle would be lovely in their apartment and not his alpha not his problem!

“I can’t take an omega,” Sherlock insists. “I am just not interested in that sort of thing.”

“I could kiss you right now.” John says lovingly.

“No,” Sherlock snaps, “Bad. Bad boy.”

“Look,” John sighs, “I don’t want a husband. I hate you dominants and your stupid knots.”

“I’m not even sure where mine is,” Sherlock admits. It feels so good to say it out loud.

“That makes two of us.” John shrugs, “I just want to live the rest of my life in peace and die undisturbed. I don’t want to have icky relations with some alpha male.”

“I could kiss you right now,” Sherlock finds himself saying.

“Please refrain,” John says, disgusted, “We’re having a decent conversation over here.”

Sherlock is mesmerized. An omega in the flesh, who doesn’t want to present himself, and have Sherlock’s babies.

John could die with joy. An alpha which has no interest in breeding him, or at the least, put him in his place. An asexual escort so to speak.

And then John kills somebody for his escort.  

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“How marvellous,” Mycroft claps both hands together. “When can we expect children?”

“Get your gun.” Sherlock orders John, who shrugs helplessly. “Get your gun now.”

“Oh I’m not going to hurt him,” Mycroft coos at John in a stereotypical alpha manner, so condescending and patronizing and John is so going to get his damn gun. “Sherlock is safe. You don’t have to protect him from me.”

“I think I do.” John says, gesturing to Sherlock who looks ready to cry tears of frustrated rage. “I really think I do.”

“No no,” Mycroft seems to be speaking to four year old children, “Kids,” He sighs. “I’m your brother-in-law,” He reminds John, who shakes his head in disappointment. “I mean you no harm. I’m going to need children.”

“We are not together.” John tries to explain to the elder Holmes brother who stares back mulishly.

“Are we doing that?” Mycroft sighs, “Why are we doing that? Why can’t we just accept each other and give me a nephew? We shall name him Mycroft.”

“I am not naming my son after you.” John crosses his arms. “I’m not having a son. We…” He points to himself and Sherlock who has frozen in hateful shock, “Are not together.”

“Wait,” Mycroft holds up a bony hand which John resists the urge to break. Military training is overcoming him. Omega instincts are slowly dying. “We are not naming my heir Mycroft?”

“I will kill myself.” Sherlock sobs a little and John actually fights all non-domestic instincts and rushes to the kitchen (ignoring the roasting racoon corpse) and starts on a cup of tea, “Is that what you want? You want me dead?”

“It will make things so much easier,” Mycroft admits honestly, “John and I shall raise Junior together, bypassing any fights you and I would have had over our son’s upbringing altogether.”

“We?” John says after the kettle is boiling water, “We…” He gestures to the three of them, two alphas and an omega, “Are having a baby?”

“We finally found an omega,” Mycroft snaps and he sounds so alpha all of a sudden, John believes this guy runs the government and Sherlock is ready to submit to big brother. It’s intimidating. “We can trust you, John.”

“No, you can’t.” John argues, “I could be anybody. Maybe I’m a spy. Maybe someone sent me to mess with the Holmes family.”

“Oh I wouldn’t let you mess with my baby brother.” Mycroft’s alpha tone is gone. He’s back to being a boring beta in disguise.

“You now my social number don’t you,” John sighs at Mycroft.

“Oh sure,” Mycroft’s tone screams duh.

“Look,” Sherlock is the voice of reason this time and they are all doomed. “John is a friend, a good friend.”

“I want a baby, Sherlock.” Mycroft says sternly. “Give me a baby and you two can do whatever the hell you want.”

“We are not those kinds of friends,” John is blushing. Dear god after all these years, John is blushing and this is what it feels like. Lord have mercy.

“You see this.” Mycroft points to where Sherlock is sitting. “You see him.”

John’s blush intensifies.

“Now look at me.” Mycroft gestures to himself. “We need a good looking baby. We need his genes to continue.”

“They can continue through you.” Sherlock reminds Mycroft. “You have my genes somewhere in that overweight corpse of yours. Do the nasty with some government ninny.”

“Where did you learn such words?” Mycroft chastises Sherlock like one would a small child and John realizes the elder brother is dying to be a father.

“Why don’t you adopt?” John finds himself involved in awful Holmes drama.

“I will gladly sign adoption papers when you have the child.” Mycroft assures John who rolls his eyes and prepares Sherlock’s tea exactly how he’s taking it this week.

“I want him dead,” Sherlock orders John. “You killed that other man. Why can’t you kill my brother?”

“He was trying to kill you,” John says patiently, fighting to urge to play with fluffy curls. “We have talked about this.”

“Make Mycroft dead.” Sherlock orders.

“Make me a baby.” Mycroft orders.

“Shut up.” John makes an irritated sound that comes deep from somewhere his soul.

“You sound like mummy.” Sherlock pouts.

“Now I’m mummy in all this?” John fights the urge to beat both brothers with the racoon baking or roasting or brazing in the kitchen. “Is that my fate?”

“You have nine months.” Mycroft is in the middle of giving an ultimatum when he’s forced to dodge a book. “Rude,” He tells John who manages to look both furious and defeated.

“We are friends.” John yells at Mycroft.

“I don’t care if you are enemies.” Mycroft yells back in an even louder more aggressive tone. “Kill him for all I care. Just give me a baby.”

“I’m getting my gun.” John tells Sherlock soothingly who takes sips of his tea. Chamomile this week, with a mix of Jasmine.

“I’m going to take my leave.” Mycroft immediately gets up. Who knows how trigger happy this stray omega is. “I will send over some pamphlets.” He tells his baby brother sternly who is pouting. Sherlock claims to be asexual and lord knows Mycroft needs to get _that_ nonsense settled if he’s going to have a baby. “You better get started soon. I’m not getting any younger.”

“I don’t want you in my life.” Sherlock announces as Mycroft escapes. “I hate you.”

“Is he gone?” John returns, truly carrying a firearm.

“Yes,” Sherlock pouts even more when he realizes John hasn’t even gotten the safety off?

“Oh I wasn’t really going to shoot your brother, Idiot.” John tries hard to keep the fond out of his voice. His omega physiology immediately presents him with images of hypothetical, imaginary children, all of which have curls.

“I hate him.” Sherlock slams the teacup down and runs toward his racoon and John breathes a sigh of relief.

 _He will sleep tonight._ John thinks happily as Sherlock carefully dissects the damn thing, running electrodes through it, and if the electricity for the entire block dies out, so what? Sherlock is content. And John won’t run to him for warmth because there is no heat. No sir. No way.

“John?” Sherlock’s voice calls out from outside the omega’s door later that night and he won’t answer. He refuses. “John?” He keeps whining and what the hell kind of alpha makes such a pathetic sound. “I’m bored and I can’t sleep. Should I play the violin?”

“No!” John immediately gets out of bed, swearing at the bitter cold. “No Sherlock. No violin!” He hates that blasted sound. “No…” He trails off before a term of endearment slips out of his stupid face.

Sherlock thankfully doesn’t notice. John is starting to realize that Sherlock is blissfully starting to ignore John a lot now.

What does that mean?

The original horrid dissection into John’s every move is starting to become something else. Sherlock barely notices John’s existence. Only when John isn’t there.

“I’m bored fix it.” Sherlock says needy.

After the cab driver case (which they haven’t talked about yet thank god. John would rather not think about what he’s done for someone he’s just met) Sherlock is kind of in between cases and a bored Sherlock is a dangerous Sherlock.

“I know a place,” There is a frightening glint in the alpha’s eyes. “Where we can find a flamethrower.”

“No.” John says firmly. He has to put his foot down. “Absolutely not.”

Sherlock throws himself on top of the sofa and squeal pathetically. John does not think about how their son would probably sound like that when he’s throwing a tantrum. Especially when it’s a toddler. No way.

“I’m bored.” Sherlock whimpers. “Help, I can’t sleep.”

“Okay,” John quickly sits down opposite Sherlock because sitting near him is just not possible. He might do something evil like cuddle up next to him or something. “Why don’t you explain something pointless like that racoon experiment you were doing.”

“I hate it.” Sherlock fidgets, annoyed.

“No,” John says patiently, “You love stupid things like that.”

“I hate everything.” Sherlock shudders when John feels his forehead, the old-fashioned way of checking temperature and actually grabs a thermometer.

“Is somebody getting a fever?” John can’t believe it. Usually high-born alphas, which is what Sherlock appears to be, tend to _not_ get these kind of ailments.

“No,” Sherlock obediently submits to John’s doctor side, which is worrisome. “I’m going into rut.”

“Okay then.” John drops the stethoscope he’s listening to Sherlock’s heartbeat with, and makes a run for his coat. “See you.”

“It’s not that bad, god,” Sherlock rolls his eyes. “I was going to leave in the morning anyway.”

“Why wouldn’t you say anything, idiot?” The fact John can say this to an alpha, someone of such high breeding, is unbelievable. “We can’t be so close right now.”

“Sure we can.” Sherlock groans and slams his head, literally slams his head against a wall. “Oh god I’m so bored.”

“You need…” John is blushing again and he hasn’t done this so much since he was nine. “You need someone…”

“Don’t be boring.” Sherlock’s icy, pale eyes glint and John’s face will explode. “Don’t be like them.”

“I have your personality down by now.” John says. He wouldn’t feel so safe with the man if he didn’t. “You don’t like to admit it but you have a body, Sherlock and that body has sex organs attached to it. You can’t just ignore the damn thing when your physiology flares up.”

“You sound like Mycroft.” Sherlock throws out.

“Okay,” John glares angrily, “You are upset but that’s just hurtful. The man is literally a Bond villain.”

“I’m so…” Sherlock is just so damn pouty and John isn’t afraid. There is an alpha within ten feet of him, losing his mind to his body and John isn’t scared.

“I don’t know what to do.” John admits.

“Fix me.” Sherlock groans. How can anyone so theoretically strong be so weak right now?

“There is only one way to fix you right now and I don’t think we are both down for that,” John wants to shoot himself right now. Sherlock is not good for his sanity.

“Why do I need to be built like this?” Sherlock asks, his tone so full of misery, John has blood on his hands from where his fingernails are digging into his palms. He can’t run his hands through those curls. He can’t.

“You’re asking _me_ why we are built like this?” John shakes his head. “Sherlock. It’s a curse. Only betas make it out alive. You know this.”

For someone like Sherlock it must be so difficult to give into base instincts like this. John realizes as Sherlock’s cheeks flush involuntarily and the alpha covers his lap with a blanket because his erection is starting to make an appearance.

“I will leave.” Sherlock promises. “God.” He sounds so disgusted with himself and it’s ridiculous. No one with such a pure, angelic appearance, hell no one with such a pure, angelic attitude; the first person who made John feel so safe, should feel so dirty about himself.

“Here,” John says, feeling a little feverish himself, holds out his hand. “Sherlock, we can…”

“Don’t be like them, John.” Sherlock refuses the offer, and makes a quick rush toward the door grabbing his coat on his way out.

“I’m not…” John hasn’t offered himself to an alpha since his early twenties, god. He vowed never to do such a vile thing after what was such a humiliating experience but it wouldn’t be like that with Sherlock. No, Sherlock would never.

“Let’s not ruin a good thing.” Sherlock has a pained look on his face which John wish he hadn’t seen before the alpha disappears. 


End file.
